Ransom
by GoldenFlither
Summary: Scrooge McDuck is the richest duck in the world; but there is something he has more important than money. Soon will he realize exactly how much more important it is when his enemies take it away and use it against him.
1. Broken Promises

Author's Note: Hi, I'm GoldenFlither (but you can call me 'Golde'), and yes, I am in fact a 20 year-old child who enjoys watching old cartoons. This is my first, and possibly only, _Ducktales_ fanfiction. I hope the one or two people reading this do, in fact, enjoy this. I'm not exactly a talented writer, but I do love to come up with different episode ideas and get them down on paper. So before any comments saying it was poorly written with silly dialogue and unconvincing actions by the characters, I'm only writing as if it was an actual episode. Nothing fancy. It's a children's story, after all. Read. Enjoy. Have fun. Stay a kid.

Chapter 1: Broken Promises

"Go long, Dewey!"

The football sailed through the air like a glider, the wind rushing along the surface as it spun, creating a smooth whistle that got louder as it got closer to the receiver.

"It's mine!" Dewey cried as he ran backwards. He leaped at it and caught it between his hands.

"Pass it here, Dewey!" Louie called out as he sprinted towards the other side of the front lawn, passing Huey in his rash attempt to block the football from his brother.

Dewey tossed it as hard as he could. He shielded his eyes as the ball seemed to make its way towards the sun at lightning speed. "Oops." He saw that he'd thrown the ball a little too high. It was headed straight for the mansion.

Huey and Louie, on the other hand, were focused on beating each other to the ball.

"I got it!" Huey yelled.

"No, I got it!" Louie shouted.

They both jumped up at the same time, but neither of them had it. The football ended up soaring over their heads, crashing through their Uncle Scrooge's window. The glass shattered noisily.

Just as they were nervously expecting, a scream shot out at them. "_Boys?!_"

The triplets shuddered. "Uh oh."

Scrooge was impatiently tapping his foot with his hands on his hips when the boys peeked in through the hole in the window. At his feet was the football resting on the floor surrounded by glass. He appeared angrier than the time they had misplaced his gold vase they were using as treasure on their pretend pirate treasure hunt.

"Boys," he asserted, "Ah thought Ah told you to not to play so close to something breakable."

The three of them put on innocent faces.

"Sorry, Uncle Scrooge," Dewey replied shyly.

"We were just waiting for you," Louis declared.

"Yeah," Huey confirmed. "You promised to come take us to the park. Remember?"

Scrooge's anger went away, but his sternness did not, as he went back to his desk. "Aye, lads, Ah meant to tell you: Ah won't be able to play with you today. Ah've got lots of work to do down at the Money Bin."

The boys looked disappointed.

"Aw, Uncle Scrooge. Can't it wait?"

"No, Ah'm afraid it can't," Scrooge affirmed. "There's a man coming tomorrow morning willing to sell me his oil mine for less than it's worth. Ah'm going to negotiate with him to make the price even lower."

Scrooge noticed his nephews' sad faces. "Don't you worry, boys. Ah'll take you to the park after the meeting and we'll spend the rest of the day."

They silently agreed amongst one another by fleeting glances, won over by the promising tone.

"All right," Huey said.

"See you later, Uncle Scrooge," Dewey shouted over his shoulder as the three of them ran off.

As soon as they disappeared over the hill, Scrooge shouted at the top of his lungs, "_Duckworth!_"

It wasn't long before Duckworth approached. "You called, Mr. McDuck?" he said in his best attempt to maintain his calmness.

"Bring the limo around."

"Right away, sir."

He was about to walk out before he looked down at the broken glass. "Oh, and then clean that up and get that window replaced."

"Very good, sir."

Scrooge was clearly ecstatic. "Just wait until Ah make a negotiation with that man to lower the price even more."

- - -

"What d' ya mean you're not willing to negotiate?!"

Mr. Henderson, a tall, scrawny hound wearing a nice business suit, slapped a slip of paper onto Scrooge's desk. "Sorry, but that's the price. Take it or leave it."

Scrooge examined the paper, and his glasses flipped off his beak. "Four million dollars? But you told me three million yesterday!"

"Yeah, but my workers struck more oil on the west side of the mountain. The value of it just went up, Scrooge. So, is it a deal or what?"

Putting his glasses back on, Scrooge contemplated with his eyes glued to the contract. It was still less than what it was worth, but that did not take away his disappointment that was his plans to lower the price. Finally, he sighed and picked up the pen. "Aye, it's a deal." He rarely doubted himself when making contracts, but the times he did, he strongly did, even if the oil guaranteed him profit. He'd let himself and his wealth down.

After signing, Mr. Henderson snatched it away. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. McDuck." With that final word, he took off, aloofly passing Huey, Dewey and Louie holding sports equipment.

Huey looked back. "Gee, he was in a hurry."

Scrooge sank into his chair. "Ah don't blame him. He just got double what Ah was intending to pay him for that mine." He lay his head face down on his desk. "Ah've failed. My poor wealth."

"Isn't that an oxymoron?" Dewey muttered to Huey.

"Don't worry, Uncle Scrooge," Louie assured, hopping onto Scrooge's desk. "You're still making profit, right?"

"Aye," Scrooge said sadly. "But not as much as Ah could have. Now if you don't mind, boys, Ah'd like some time alone with my money."

The boys looked at one another, and then back at their uncle.

"But, Uncle Scrooge," Huey spoke out, "you promised to take us to the park today."

"Yeah. We're all ready to go," Dewey proclaimed, spinning the soccer ball on his index finger.

Scrooge stacked another coin onto a stack of coins, resting his cheek against his fist. "Not today, lads. Ah think Ah'm just gonna take a dip in my money, so I can appreciate the six hundred and seven quadrillion, nine hundred thirty-four trillion, two hundred eighty six billion, one hundred fifty-one million, three hundred sixty thousand and two dollars Ah have left. Just to relax. It's been a stressful week for me."

"You can relax with us," Dewey assured.

"We'll do whatever you want to help you settle down," Louie agreed.

"And you can always go swimming in the pond instead," Huey added.

Scrooge got to his feet. "Thanks, boys. But no sale. All I really need is some quiet time with my money, that's all. We'll go to the park another day."

"But-"

Before the boys could say anything else, their Uncle Scrooge disappeared behind the massive vault door just as it closed behind him. They exchanged cheerless glances and hung their heads disappointedly.


	2. Tax Season

Author's Note: Sorry about the long wait. I'm terrible with consistency. Thank you to all the users who reviewed my story. I must say I was rather surprised to receive more than three reviews. Pleasently surprised. Thank you all so much. I hope you enjoy chapter 2. Forgive me if it's too vague and unsatisfying. It's exam month; my brain hurts.

Chapter 2: Tax Season

"I'm worried about Uncle Scrooge," Huey said to his brothers.

"Me too," Dewey agreed. "I mean, I know he loves money, but it's getting ridiculous now."

Louie picked up the toy plane and held it up in the air. "Tell me about it. Remember last week when he flipped after he dropped a nickel down the sewer?"

"Oh yeah. He took off the drain cover and dove in after it."

"'Took three men and a rope to get him out of there."

Dewey rolled a toy truck across their cluttered bedroom floor. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm starting to think money's _all_ he cares about."

"That's not true, Dewey," Huey argued. "Uncle Scrooge loves us."

"Yeah," Louie agreed, lowering the toy plane. "You know that."

"I guess you're right. But I'm scared he's forgetting that."

"It's tax season, Dewey," Louie reminded him. "It's only natural for him to get all worked up about it. You don't really think he loves money more than us, do ya?"

Dewey actually considered, but eventually concluded, "No, I guess not."

Quickly deciding to change the subject, Louie pointed at the sun shining through their window. "It's too much of a good day to stay cooped up in here. Let's go to the park ourselves."

Huey and Dewey hung their heads.

"It won't feel right without Uncle Scrooge," Dewey admitted.

"Aw, come on," Louie said, nudging his brother. "Uncle Scrooge is always busy. When do we ever let that stop us from having our own fun?"

"I guess you're right," Huey agreed as they dropped their toys and got to their feet. "He can always play with us another day."

Louie struck his fist into his palm. "Even if we have to drag him out of that Money Bin _personally_."

They snickered.

- - -

There were many theatres in the large city of Duckberg, all in constant competition with each other. Some maintained enough success in order for the owners to pay the rent; others did not. The Von Quack Theatre, one of the more unsuccessful theatres, had been closed down for years. The building remained abandoned. Or so people thought.

Inside the Von Quack Theatre, darkness concealed the features of a figure behind a drawn curtain. The outline of it formed a body, sitting with his feet up on a desk.

The curtain was pulled back to reveal yet another lone body. With the light now shining through the surrounding broken windows, both figures could easily be identified by anybody who had seen them before. However, there was nobody else around to identify them. Just two forgotten ducks in one forgotten theatre.

One of them, the one sitting, smiled and tipped his head back to get a better view of the other from under his dress hat. "My son."

The other, seemingly younger but a splitting image of the older man's, expressed his respect by taking off his own hat. "It's good to see you again, father." His voice wasn't nearly as deep, but his Russian accent was just as thick.

Removing his feet from the desk, he got up off the chair and steered himself around the desk. "Now, that's no way to greet the father. Come give me a hug, my boy."

He complied, embracing his father compassionately.

"Fifteen years it has been, no?"

"Yes," answered the younger duck. "Fifteen years."

His father sat down. "You are lucky to have such a persuasive father, Czar. Otherwise, you'd still be in that prison."

"Aye, father. I am grateful."

"You know it was going to be thirty years, don't you boy?"

"I do know." He was catching on to what his father was trying to do, so he went along with it. "What can I possibly do to repay you?"

The older duck leaned back, his hands behind his head.

Czar waited as his father considered.

"Well," he began, "there is one thing you can help me out with."

"Anything."

"We're getting back on the horse."

Czar was surprised. "But father, you said..."

"I know what I said. I couldn't tell you the truth with all those police officers around."

He nodded. "So who this time?"

The older of the two smiled. "Scrooge McDuck."

- - -

The scrunched up paper bounced off the wall and landed on the floor next to the garbage bin. Scrooge tossed the pen aside and sighed heavily. "Ah learned math in school, but Ah never thought it would make me so depressed."

Duckworth handed him a glass of water. "Perhaps it's time you went on break, sir."

"Ah can't do that," Scrooge declared, shaking his head. "Ah've still got that pile over there t' finish that pile over there." He jolted his thumb over his shoulder at the large stack of papers at the corner. "If Ah take even a minute break now, Ah'll be here all night. And Ah don't think Ah have it in me t' stay up all night. Then th' next day Ah'll have nothing else t' think about but sleep and Ah'll never get any work done at th' Money Bin and then Ah'll fall way behind in my work and Ah'll have t' make up for it for weeks."

"It was only a suggestion, sir."

"Let's face it, Duckworth. M' life's all about work. It's an endless parade of money comin' in and money comin' out."

Duckworth took Scrooge's jacket off the coat rack as the duck he spent years serving got out of his seat. "It's the same thing every month, sir. The important thing is that it will be over shortly."

"Aye, you're right, Duckworth." Scrooge slipping his arms into his jacket sleeves. "Ah suppose it's probably just a side effect."

"Indeed, Mr. McDuck."

With his jacket on, he sat back down at his desk, staring down gloomily at the endless stack of bills that piled up at the ends of his desk.

"Break time, sir?"

Scrooge exhaled and pondered with a sad look on his face. A moment past before he shook his head, almost violently, to the point where all thoughts of rest had been shaken out through his ears. "Not a good idea. It's all about _time management_. Ye don't think Ah got to the top by takin' breaks, do ya?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

Scrooge picked up a pen and pulled in his calculator. "Ah don't like t' disappoint the boys, but if Ah'm gonna get any quality time, Ah need t' finish this pile today."

"Oh, good plan. And I'll stand here all day pretending to be a loyal butler but really just wanting to play some golf at that field just across the street."

"All right then," Scrooge said, unconscious of what he was actually saying.

Duckworth sighed and rolled his eyes. "I hate tax season."


End file.
